


The Bane of Jack Rollins' Existance

by SwampWitch



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, Get Together, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Suicidal Jack, Suicidal Thoughts, except there is no hydra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampWitch/pseuds/SwampWitch
Summary: Maybe he had everyone fooled with the nice guy act. Maybe their friends thought Brock was just an asshole until you got to know him. Jack knows his best friend- and Brock is absolutely an asshole.





	1. Not a Morning Person

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know where I want to go with this, it's just an idea that popped up, tags and ratings may change. No real storyline, just some ideas I want to work with. Enjoy :)

     Brock Rumlow was an asshole. Everyone who knew anything at all about the man knew that. What they didn’t know was the way his smile could light up a room, or the how he would go an extra two miles out of his way every morning to feed the junkyard dog that was always chained up outside at the edge of the neighborhood block. They had no idea that most of Brock's check and his spare time was spent in soup kitchens around the city- a testament to his bad childhood, and his need to provide for people. Not many knew Brock’s secret, which was he was only an asshole if he didn’t like you.

     Jack Rollins had known Brock for going on two decades, and had decided that Brock was an asshole regardless, because seriously, who the fuck leaves their cellphone turned all the way up at someone else’s house, with an alarm set to go off at fuck off o’ clock in the morning?

     Jack Rollins was not a morning person. Mornings were for sex, sleep, and coffee. Perhaps not in that order. Morning people broke those rules, and he hated them.

     As his front door clicked shut softly, he sat up- angry and exhausted, and ready to tear into the morning person that had just come in. Bloodshot eyes narrowed at the bedroom door. 

     “Morning sleeping beauty!” Brock’s shit- eating grin was no match for Jack’s stoicism this morning. He was in no mood to even pretend to put up with his best friend's bullshit today. 

     “Get fucked.”

     “Well you gotta be a little more awake for that.” Brock narrowly avoided the expertly thrown boot sent his way. “Come on, lighten up. We have enough time to hit the gym before work if you get up now.”

     With a glare that would send lesser men scrambling, Jack pointedly sank back into bed and drew the blankets over his head.

     “Hey, suit yourself, I’m headed out now. Coffee on the table, man.” With the same click, the door closed itself again.

     Jack ruminated on the fact that no one alive could be simultaneously as oblivious, agitating, and attractive as Brock Rumlow. As Brock’s phone alarm sounded again, Jack swore and climbed out of bed.

     Yes, Brock was definitely an asshole.


	2. Not a Morning Person, cont'd

 

     Fogwell’s gym was quiet this morning. Of course at 6 in the morning on a damn Tuesday it wasn’t surprising. Brock was already at the heavy bags, a sure sign that he would be done soon. As he finished his round, he caught sight of Jack, standing by the bench, and glaring.

     “Jackie!” How the man could be so chipper and such a dick Jack had no idea.

     “You. Left. Your. Goddamn. Phone.” All but growling, Jack threw the offending item into Brock’s gym bag.

     “Oh, come on J-“

     “Again.”

     Both men were quiet for a moment. The sounds of the few others in the boxing gym broke the tense silence.

     “I just thought it’d be nice to have a sparring partner that can actually keep the fuck up.” Brock looked a bit remorseful, so Jack let it slide. As usual.

     Turning away, he called out over his shoulder, “See you at work.”

     Brock didn’t respond, and watched Jack leave.

     Confusion was spawning in Brock’s mind. Jack had been off lately. The man was always stoic, and reserved, but he always had a laugh for Brock, even it was just a laugh _at_ Brock. Something was going on that he didn’t know about, and it ate at him. Brock and Jack didn’t have secrets. Two full service tours together, nearly twenty years time, and having seen the literal worst of each other made secrets pointless. The fact that Jack seemed genuinely angry with Brock left him unsettled.

     Removing his gloves, and peeling away the hand wraps, Brock headed for the showers to clean himself up and get ready to meet Jack at work- already thinking of how to find out what the man’s problem was.


	3. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack decides he needs something, or someone, to keep his mind off of what is really bothering him. An opportunity presents itself nicely.

     Work had dragged by all day long. The only true downside to being a senior member of STRIKE is that no one called you for shit that wasn’t important. Jack was bored. He’d been in the facility gym for hours, and he was still angry. Most of the junior staff were steering clear. The reputation of SIC Rollins was well known, and no one wanted to be on his bad side. If Commander Rumlow was the brains of a mission, his second in command was the teeth, and it showed.

     After completing all the paperwork that needed attention, and starting the paperwork he’d need later in the month, Jack decided to call it a day. A person could only handle so much monotony. After dodging Brock all day, everyone was a little wary, sensing that there was some tension between the two STRIKE commanders.

     Grabbing his duffel bag, and heading to the locker room to change out of his on-site uniform, and put on his subway clothes, Jack noticed a shadow trailing behind him. Waiting carefully, and not altering his steps, he waited until he was just inside the locker room. Noticing that it was empty, Jack spun around with calculated grace that belied the man’s size, and slammed his tail into the locker wall.

     “Dammit Rumlow I’m not in the mood for your bullshit!” Immediately, Jack noticed the problem. Cowering beneath him was not Brock Rumlow, but one of the junior recruits, fresh faced and barely out of basic training. With a deep sigh, Jack relented, and helped the kid steady on his feet.

     “I- I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to-“

     “What did you want kid?” Jack’s tone was much more even, much more characteristic of the calm he was known for.

     “Well, sir I had heard some things, and I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to know, that is, I-“

     “Spit it out.” Already sensing where this was going, Jack was getting agitated.

     “Do you want to go get a drink?”

 _What?_ “What?”

     Jack’s genuine confusion spurred the younger man onward.

     “A- a drink, sir. Maybe get to know each other a little better?” Seeming very nervous but confident, his eyes looked up questioningly at Jack.

     Jack had no idea what to say. He had never been particularly open about his sexuality, especially around people he didn’t know, and now he wondered where these rumors had come from.

     “Where did you hear about me?” Jack didn’t sound angry, but his tone made no room for bullshit.

     “One of the guys in the locker room a few days ago, sir. I guess he saw me looking, sir. It was after you had come out from the pool when you were supervising the drown- proofing, and he said I should grow some balls and say something. Said everyone knew you weren’t big on women. I figured maybe I had a chance.”

     Jack stayed silent for a long moment. He’d had no idea that he had been so easily read.

     “Maybe I should leave, sir?” He seemed unsure if himself now.

     The more Jack thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Maybe keeping the rumor mill busy would keep Rumlow off his back, and the kid wasn’t bad looking. Had balls, too, to approach Jack Rollins on a day when even Fury had side stepped him.

     “Well, you’re right. Never been much for women. What’s your name kid?”

     “Isaac, sir.”

     “Tell you what. Give me ten and meet me downstairs. And lose the ‘Sir’ if we’re not on the clock.”

     A bright smile shone up at Jack, and he thought that maybe some company _was_ in order. Against the fraternization policy, for sure, but the kid could easily be transferred out if he made things complicated.

     “Isaac.”

     “Yeah?” He was still have smiling as he turned back toward the SIC.

     “I’ll be up front with you,” he started, “I’m not really looking for anything serious.” Waiting for the younger man to back down, Jack watched carefully.

     “That’s okay. I’m shipping out at the end of the week. I just thought maybe it would be nice to be with someone, you know, like me, before I get sent somewhere where it’ll get me killed.”

     Jack grimaced. “The Russia mission?”

     “Yeah. For 18 months.” He certainly didn’t look happy about it.

     “Change of plans, then.”

     Isaac’s face fell. Confusion washed over his face as Jack stepped close to him. “Sir?”

     Pitching his voice as low as he could make it, Jack put his hands against the wall on both sides of Isaac’s head. “How about instead of going out for a few drinks, you come back to my apartment, and I give you something to remember for the next 18 months?”

     “That sounds amazing, Sir.” Isaac already seemed a little out of breath, and his eyes were already going wide.

     “Give me ten. I’ll be right out.” Jack turned and walked back into the locker room, and Isaac headed for the stairs down to the ground floor lobby.

     Unseen and unheard, Brock Rumlow slipped away from the corner where he had been watching Jack, and headed for home, unsure about the feelings tightening his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have a rating change, and will be not plot relevant for those that wish to skip it.
> 
>  
> 
> Will also feature bottom!jack


	4. Jack Takes Isaac Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notice the rating change. This chapter is not crucial to the plotline, and can be skipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never before written a sex scene, and I hope this is acceptable.

     As Jack’s door shut behind him, and Isaac looked around the small apartment, he was struck with the thought that it was a damn good thing he had taken a few minutes to clean up the place before coming to work that day. Isaac set his bag down behind the couch, and turned to face Jack.

     “So, where do we start, Sir?”

     Jack eased past Isaac, and into the tiny kitchen, where he grabbed the coffee pot. “Not Sir. Not here, and not like this. You can just call me Jack.” He said over his shoulder.

     “Right, Jack. Sorry, just seems a little odd to call you that, after so long calling you Commander Rollins.”

     Jack grimaced against the reminder that Murphy was here to participate in something that neither of them should really be doing.

     “Look kid, you’re a hell of a lot younger than me, and I kinda already feel like a dirty old man. The ‘Sir’ isn’t helping.”

     “Alright, _Jack._ I’ll lose the ‘Sir’ if you lose the ‘kid’.”

     “Done. _Isaac.”_

     Isaac was starting to feel that underneath his trademark stoicism, Jack Rollins was a shit- starter. He wondered how many of the stories from out of basic were actually true.

     The soft hiss and drip of the coffee pot stirred Jack from his thoughts, and he stepped close to Isaac. Putting his hands on the younger man’s arms, he said softly, “Why don’t we get a little more comfortable?” Jack motioned to the empty coat rack, and started to shrug out of his jacket, slightly damp from the mist that had started as they left the subway.

     Isaac slipped off his jacket, revealing a very snug sleeveless shirt. Every muscle he had was straining against the thin, white fabric. Jack stared at him like a starved man before a feast.

     “Hey, shake your head, your eyes are stuck,” he smirked when he said it.

     Raising his eyes to Isaac’s face, Jack felt his face wash with color. He swallowed thickly. He was already more than a little aroused being around Isaac, with his easy manner and gentle humor. Half turning, Jack started to slip off his dark grey long sleeves, over his own tank top, when he felt Isaac’s hands on his waist. Pausing, and looking, he fixated on Isaac’s smoldering eyes. Blue, he noticed, thankful that they weren’t green.  

     Leaning in, Jack slipped his arms around Isaac, and pulled a hand through his hair to tilt his face up. Closing the distance, Jack pressed his lips against Isaac’s. A soft murmur of approval thrummed through the younger man, and Jack deepened the kiss, hands moving all over Isaac’s warm skin. Slipping his hands up underneath the shirt, Jack pulled it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to remove it altogether.

     After another moment, Isaac hummed and reached for Jack’s shirt, and said softly against Jack’s lips, “Why don’t we head for your room?”

     “Yeah, let’s do that.” Jack reached and took off his own shirts, and as Isaac was distracted looking him over, Jack seized the opportunity to step in and lean against him. Their bodies chest to chest, Jack leaned down again to kiss him. Feeling Jack’s hands slide down his hips, and around his ass, Isaac moaned, entirely without meaning to. Jack paused, his eyes full of a deep hunger that Isaac had never seen directed at him before.

    Isaac kicked off his shoes, with Jack following suit. Taking him by the hand, Jack led Isaac through the dark apartment and into his bedroom. Clicking on a dim bedside lamp, Jack turned back. As he opened his mouth to speak, Isaac was already there pushing Jack onto the bed and licking a trail up the side of his neck.

     This time Jack let out a soft moan, and tightened his grip on Isaac’s back. As Jack’s moans became louder and breathier, Isaac ran his tongue up under Jack’s ear, and whispered softly, “Tell me what it is you want.”

     Panting slightly, Jack opened his eyes. His head was swimming. He had expected Isaac to be good, but not so good that he’d had Jack barely able to speak after less than ten minutes in his apartment.

     Reaching up to take a solid grip, Jack flipped them over. Isaac’s eyes went wide, finding himself pinned underneath the larger man. “Tell me, _Isaac_ , you came to me tonight. Knew I was, well, _inclined_ , and you came and found me. So, tell me, _what is it_ you _want?_ ”

    “I don’t know,” Isaac chose to answer honestly. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

     Jack smiled down. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m confident that what happens here won’t get talked about in the locker rooms tomorrow,” Jack’s voice brooked no argument, and Isaac knew that this was a man that could make his life unendingly miserable if he felt the need to, “So I think I can trust you with this.”

     “Oh, and what’s that?” Isaac’s voice took on a playful tone, wondering just what Jack was about to reveal.

     “I don’t top.”

 _Oh._ “Oh.” Isaac was absolutely surprised and absolutely thrilled. “I have to say that’s not what I expected, but it’s definitely something I can work with.”

     At Jack’s pleased expression, Isaac reached for Jack’s belt, and undoing it. Jack leaned back, up onto his knees. Isaac found himself shocked to see that Jack Rollins, fearless and expressionless STRIKE second- in- command, looked nervous.

     “Jack? You ok?”

     “Yeah. It’s uh, it’s just been a little while for me.” _Since I realized that I can’t stop thinking about my asshole best friend._

     Isaac reached up and grabbed Jack’s chin gently. “Do you still want this? Want me?”

     “God yes.”

     “Then don’t worry.” The mere thought of having Jack underneath him, calling out his name while he came, had Isaac feeling almost giddy.

     Jack stood up, off the bed, his expression making it clear that he expected Isaac to follow him off the bed. In that moment, Isaac realized that while Jack may not want to top, he was still very definitely in charge. Watching  Jack kick off his jeans, Isaac started on his own. Jack’s hands stopped him. Finding it quite difficult to tear his eyes away from Jack’s naked and perfect body, he looked up.

     “Let me.” Spoken so softly that he almost didn’t hear it. Jack knelt down in front of Isaac, his face nearly level with his belt. Jack looked up at Isaac’s confused face, and smirked as he made quick work of the belt and zipper of his jeans. Pulling them down, Jack placed a hand on Isaac’s chest, pushing enough to let him know that Jack wanted him to sit on the edge of the bed. Sitting, he moaned uncontrollably as he felt Jack’s hand very gently stroking him. Now completely hard, he looked down at Jack, who met his eyes for the briefest moment with a smile that Isaac had never seen before. A smile that made him seem years younger. In one motion, Jack leaned forward and swallowed Isaac down all the way to his balls.

     “Holy shit!” Isaac’s brained shorted out as the intensity of Jack’s mouth made thought impossible. He’d had damn good blow jobs in the past, but nothing like this. Jack sucked dick like he loved it, and he certainly seemed to be making the most of it. Both hands gripped Isaac, one around the shaft and the other softly pressing the spot under his balls that made his eyes cross. As Jack’s head bobbed faster, Isaac felt an embarrassingly soon tightness is his groin.

     “J- Jack, wait. I’m getting really close man.” Their eyes locked, and Jack slowed. With a pop, he took his mouth of off Isaac, who felt the loss immediately.

     “Well, we can’t have that, at least not yet.” Jack’s words were a little slurred through his swollen lips.

     “God, you are amazing.” Jack flushed deeply. Isaac noticed that he was a full- body blusher, too.

     “Didn’t mean to get quite so carried away.”

     “Oh, I’m not complaining. You enjoy it, don’t you? Most people don’t really like to suck dick.”

     Jack ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, well I’m not most people.”

     “No, no you aren’t.” Isaac pulled Jack up, and he climbed into the bed. “Why don’t you lay on your back for me?”

     Jack shimmied up to middle of the bed, and propped himself up on his elbows, legs slightly apart. His swollen lips looked terribly obscene. He also still looked nervous. It was an odd expression to see on someone who could rip Isaac apart with his bare hands.

     Isaac skimmed his hands along Jack’s legs, noting that they were quite sensitive when Jack was aroused. Climbing up to kiss Jack, Isaac ran his hand along Jack’s thigh, prompting him to spread his legs a bit further. Smiling against Jack’s mouth, Isaac pushed Jack’s legs apart, and settled himself in between.

     “Is there anything you don’t want me to do? Anything you aren’t comfortable with?”

     Jack looked a bit pensive, and said very quietly, “I don’t like to be held down. I, uh, actually freak out a little bit.” Isaac was rushed with the wish to have known Jack better, because he sensed this was a story that meant someone in the world needed an ass kicking that Jack, for all his strength, couldn’t provide.

     “Well, if anything isn’t what you want, _anything_ ,” he looked meaningfully up at Jack, “you tell me and we stop. Okay?”

     “Yeah.”

     Isaac slid his hands underneath Jack’s thighs, positioning his long legs over his shoulders, and leaning in. Running his tongue from head of Jack’s dick, past his balls, down further and further, until he reached the soft pink flesh of Jack’s ass. Gently flicking his tongue over the soft skin, Jack moaned so loudly it startled Isaac. Smiling, he went to work making Jack as sloppy and unfocused as he could.

     Before too long, Jack pulled himself together enough to speak.

     “You gonna fuck me or what?” Jack’s eyes were dilated and his body was flushed. Isaac wondered if he could have made Jack come just from rimming him.

     “Well, I don’t want to keep you waiting, now do I?” Reaching for the lotion bottle conveniently next to Jack’s bed, Isaac slicked up his hand, and cautiously slipped a finger into Jack, who immediately reacted. Isaac couldn’t make out what Jack was saying but he was hard, and moaning, and Isaac was pleased that he could have this effect on the normally reserved Jack Rollins.

     “Please, more. I need more than that.” Jack hadn’t even opened his eyes, but he was all breathy moans by now. It seemed every move Isaac made on the man drew out a sultry _‘please’_ or a _‘yes’._

     Isaac slid in another finger, astounded by how tight the other man was, and carefully started to stretch Jack out.

     “Isaac, please.” Jack squirmed and was grinding against Isaac’s hand like a desperate man.

     “Jack, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m bigger than this.” Isaac fought his desire to fuck Jack through the mattress, all the obscene noises Jack was making were driving him insane.

     “You won’t hurt me,” Jack locked his eyes on Isaac’s. “Just fuck me, please.”

     Both men were panting. Isaac decided that Jack damn well knew what he wanted, and reached again for the lotion. Slicking up his own dick, Isaac lined himself up, and painfully slowly began to push into Jack.

     With one soft huff, Jack became absolutely silent. Worried at first that he had actually hurt the man, Isaac started to pull himself back out. Jack responded by wrapping his thighs around Isaac’s waist and locking his ankles behind his back.

     “Fuck. Me.” Oh yes, Jack knew exactly what he wanted and was in no mood to ask for it.

     Isaac set a pace that had the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall every time he rocked into Jack. Isaac knew that his time was getting very short, and took one hand off of Jack’s thigh, and wrapped it around Jack’s dick.  

     Stroking Jack in time with his own pace, Isaac warned Jack again, “Jack, I-“

     He was cut off by Jack’s keening. Jack’s entire body clenched around Isaac, as he came with a shout. Cum landed all over Jack and Isaac, and as Jack opened his eyes, with Isaac still fucking him, Isaac felt himself get lightheaded, and he came inside Jack, sinking down over top of him.


	5. Brock, Hiding in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock's point of view of ch. 3

     Brock Rumlow was a conflicted man. Jack was his best friend- shit they’d been friends for going on two decades. Not knowing what was bothering Jack was eating at him. Three times he’d gone to Jack’s desk in the office floor, only to find Jack already gone. Near the end of the day, spotting Jack heading for the locker rooms, Brock thought he could corner Jack in the gym to talk at him.

     One of the new STRIKE guys, _Murphy_ , his mind supplied, was following Jack. Brock noticed the very minuscule hitch of Jack’s shoulders that meant he was aware he had a tail- something he had only picked up on after years of Jack’s presence. The kid had no idea.

     Following them both, and backing into a corner as Jack entered the locker room, Brock waited.

     “Dammit Rumlow I’m not in the mood for your bullshit!”

     Brock straightened up a little at that. Jack never shouted, and had never shouted at Brock that way. He realized that Jack must have thought it was him that had followed him.

 _Which means he_ has _been avoiding me._

     As the scene unfolded in front of him, Brock tried to make as little noise as possible. Years of training kept him from being discovered by the pair. He felt like he was seeing something that should have no witnesses.

     While Brock was no stranger to Jack’s preference, and had seen him take home many men over the course of their friendship, he had never known Jack to be partial to anyone they worked with. It was entirely unlike Jack to be so open, especially with a teammate. As he thought about it, it had been nearly a year since the last time Brock had known of Jack seeing someone.

_Maybe this’ll be good for Jackie._

     As Murphy headed for the stairs to the ground floor, Brock waited. A move now would reveal his position to Jack, and Brock wanted to avoid that.

     As Jack tugged his jacket on, and stepped out of the locker room, Brock couldn’t help but read his face like he would a target. Stooping to pick up his duffel of uniform clothes, Jack looked like he had been gut- punched.

     Something wasn’t quite adding up to Brock. A man planning to take somebody home for the night shouldn’t look like they’d been told their dog died.

_What is on your mind, Jack?_

     Watching Jack move toward the stairs after Murphy, Brock slipped away, lost in thoughts and wondered how to approach his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have sad Jack, which a little difficult for me to write, so it may take a day or two to get out.


	6. Melancholy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sad jack is sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has descriptions of depression and suicidal thoughts

           Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains in Jack’s room. He rolled from his side onto his and ran his hand through his hair with a groan. Already filled with regrets, Jack fought the impulse to just sleep through the day. He had days like this more and more frequently, when just the effort of existing felt a personal offense. Everything was so much easier when life was just a rough and tumble. Things were fun, Jack had fun going out, hanging out with Brock, going to the bar with guys from work. Things were easy.

            He couldn’t remember when the way he felt had gotten so bad. It was easy to be the quiet and reserved one everyone looked to. It was harder lately, to not let how he felt show. Thinking back, Jack thought of a night when Brock had drunkenly told Jack that his life wouldn’t be complete without him. Ever since that night, Jack reflected more and more on what Brock meant to him.

            Jack realized that for months he hadn’t taken anyone home, preferring to hit the bar with Brock, or watch shitty TV after missions. He knew Brock’s entire schedule, knew his favorite food, knew his coffee order, and knew when Brock would show up at his door to drag him out for a run. He knew that Brock would have him give him a boost over the fence to feed the dog that lived outside the junkyard. Jack knew everything about Brock.

            It was like a punch in the chest when Jack realized that all his happy memories from the last dozen and a half years included Brock, and he didn’t want that to stop.

            Everything was easy before he realized he was in love with Brock Rumlow.

            Reaching to the bedside, he found it cold.

            Eyes crinkling in confusion, Jack looked to his left, to find Isaac had gone.

_Nothing serious, indeed._

            Climbing from the bed to relieve himself, Jack noted that it was almost noon, and he should have been at work hours ago. No one had called to get him out of bed, or shown up at his door to retrieve him, perhaps his absence had gone unnoticed. Or maybe he didn’t have a shift today. He couldn’t remember and didn’t much care. It wasn’t like they could fire him.

             A sharp knock at the door started Jack back to the present.

             “Who is it?” _As if I don’t fucking know._

             “It’s me.” Brock’s voice sounded muffled through the door. _Of course it fucking is._

              Unlocking the door, Jack noted that Brock looked upset and hungover. “You didn’t just barge in, what’s the occasion?”

              Shifting from foot to foot, Brock seemed uneasy, a fact which was making Jack uneasy.

             “Brock?”

             “Why are you avoiding me? You’ve been acting weird for a little bit now. What gives, Jack?”

             “I don’t want to talk about this.” Turning away, Jack was pleasantly surprised to discover that Isaac had thrown away last night’s untouched coffee and started fresh, and also left a note. It was simple, the usual, ‘ _I’m sorry to go’_ and ‘ _I hope to see you around._ ’

             "But there _is_ something to talk about?” Brock didn’t really do serious talks. To see him so unguarded only depressed Jack more. If only he could just go back to bed. _I can’t just keep acting like nothing wrong. Maybe I should hit psych when I get to work._

             Jack sighed deeply, and sank into one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for Brock to join him.

             Glancing out the window, Jack thought how simple it would be to just close his eyes and step into the line of traffic out there. Or maybe just step off the roof. He had any number of poisons under the kitchen sink.

             An uncomfortable silence settled as Jack drank down his coffee.

             “Jack-“

             “Stop. You think by being here you’re helping, but you’re not.” _Not by a fucking longshot._

             “Then tell me what’s wrong!” Standing so fast that his chair slammed to the floor, Brock started pacing dramatically around the tiny kitchen, and Jack couldn’t help but think about how at ease and at home Brock seemed here, and he immediately shook the thought from his mind.

             “Do you ever feel like nothing feels real anymore, Brock?”

             “What do you mean, Jackie?”

              “Like you’ve dug yourself a pit, and you can’t get out of it, and then after a while you can’t see the way out.”

              Brock’s eyes had clouded over with concern. Dragging his chair up and directly in front if Jack, he sat down, looking right into Jack’s eyes.

              Before Jack had the time to get swallowed up by Brock’s green eyes, Brock put his hands on top of Jack’s. “I need you to talk to me, man. You’re scarin’ me.”

              “This is me talking.” Even the effort of trying to be near Brock was exhausting.

              “Come on Jack, what’s going on? You can tell me anything, I love you, man.”

              Jack’s flat expression twisted into an unpleasant smile, and Jack started laughing. Manic, and hysterical, this laughter bordered on crazed.

             “Love me? What the FUCK do you know about loving me?” Still laughing, Jack picked up his coffee, chugged the remainder of it, and slammed the cup against the far wall past Brock’s head. “I love _you_ , but I really don’t think you can say the same.”

             Brock’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Jack, what are you talking about? We’re- we’re buddies, man, we go back forever-”

             “Yeah, and that’s where it ends. I fuckin’ know already. What I want from you, what I _need_ from you, I can’t have.”

             “Jack,-“

             “Just go. Just get the fuck out of my house and get out of my life.”

             “Jesus, Jack will you calm the fuck down for a second?”

             Advancing on him, and suddenly furious Jack grabbed Brock by the arms and started bodily shoving him towards the door. “GET OUT!”

             Stumbling and landing on his ass, to see Jack’s door slam shut, Brock felt his chest tighten. _What the hell is Jack talking about? What’s that shit about love? He can’t mean it like that._

             Hearing Jack’s body thump against the other side of the door, and slide down, Brock listened for a moment, only to hear Jack’s breath shake and hitch, which was probably the furthest the man allowed himself to cry. Pulling out his phone, Brock headed down the stairs dialing a number he was hoping to never need.

            “Hey, this is Sam.”

            “Sam Wilson?”

            “Yeah that’s me, can I help you with something?”

            “A friend of mine, actually. He’s acting weird and it’s got me worried.”


End file.
